Just One Drink by Charlotte Sloan

against his rock solid chest.
    I began to unbutton him from his uniform, my hands trembling as I did so, until at last I managed to free him from its confines, and began to slide my fingers along the cotton of the tank top he wore underneath.
    He, in turn, brought his hands forward, and began to squeeze my breasts, almost in imitation of the video I'd sent him, I thought, and I tilted my head back, eyes closed, moaning with sweet, sweet satisfaction.
    He leaned in, then, and planted his lips onto my neck, sinking his teeth into me, feeding on my flesh as though it was the most delectable thing on God's earth. Once he'd gotten his fill, lapping up tears and perspiration and the sweetness of my skin that lay beneath it all, he reached over momentarily to switch on the faucet of the shower, the scalding water pouring down and a thick white cloud of steam beginning immediately to fog up the cramped room.
    And, appropriately enough, things began to heat up in earnest from here. Though the underlying current of our tearful reunion still remained, it was quickly being overtaken by a sense of awakened carnal lust, explicit and without softness, a desire to fuck, to be taken, to be possessed, and to pound our bodies together so passionately that they might never become detached again.
    He peeled out of his clothes, all the way down to his tight little underwear, which bulged and teased around the immense, thickened obstacle of his massive hard-on, the log of its shaft and the tulip shaped tip blazing evidently at me through the fabric, and causing me to drip with want for his glorious treasures inside my trembling body.
    And soon, his hands were creeping onto myself as well, peeling me out of my clothes, sliding off one article after the other, each grazing of his touch against my skin far sweeter and more potent than the last.
    Before I knew it, I was down to my lingerie, and the palms of his hands came sliding along my taut, stomach, slipping beneath the fabric of my panties, and the fingers clenching down hard, grabbing handfuls of the flesh against my thighs, so that I found myself shaking from head to toe.
    His fingers slid toward the center then, creeping toward the treasure in between my thighs. I braced myself, preparing for him to touch down and to destroy me with his glorious love, but he stopped short quite suddenly, crippling me by stopping just short of the mark, and instead bringing his palms back up to the lacy black fabric of my panties.
    He stripped me completely naked, then, washing away the fabric of my underwear, and then sliding me out of my bra as well, taking a considerable moment to cherish my tits as he held them in his hands, suckling reverently on them, and his tongue rolling around the nipples in such a way that I thought I might pass out with the pleasure of sensation.
    With a last stroke of fabric, he shed his own tight underwear, and I gazed, stunned, at the thick, swinging pendulum of his erection, his penis sheer perfection, and his scrotum with such a loving essence for me that it made me quiver to consider it.
    He took me by the hand into the shower, and I loved watching this muscular body get wet and slippery before my eyes. Droplets trickled through the crevices in his pectoral muscles, dribbling through the agonizing rungs of his six-pack abdominals, slicing through the deeply entrenched v-lines of his Adonis muscles. God, how I wanted him...
    And as though reading my mind clearly as day, he pulled me into himself once more, kissing me passionately, and our two hearts beating almost in unison as we consumed and ravished one another's drenched, naked bodies. Down below, his cock was pressed firmly up against my stomach, and he began to grind himself up against me as we made out like newlyweds.
    As though to pull himself even closer, he grabbed a vicious handful of thigh, and hoisted my leg up around his waist, and I loved being taken so roughly in this manner, man-handled by his huge, well-trained